ATP Breeders Live: Blood Red Shoes

Whiny, weird, and winsome, BRS's Steven and Laura-Mary sound and act a lot bigger than the lone duo gunslingers they are.  With noisy bravado enough to fill the mainstage, if not the whole freaking Pavilion, the two-tone two jumpstart Day 2 right as Brighton's art core answer to Brooklyn's twee-tastic Matt & Kim.

Just about everything else to say about BRS has been reported ad naseum (i.e. Steven and Laura-Mary have awesome stage chemistry, Laura-Mary is SOOOO hot, etc.), so I'll share this touching "ATP Moment" story about vocalist-percussionist Steven instead:

Circa 2 or 3AM at the end of this successful (read: drunk) ATP day, everyone is gathered for some increasingly raucous fun at the prestigious (read: terrible) Crazy Horse club.  A few (read: many) drinks in, I spot Steven, of whose acquaintance I have yet to have the pleasure of making.  Or more accurately, I spot his gaunt hand as it grabs the beer out of my paws with an eloquent introduction of "Gimme your beer!"  Is this the brash arrogance of a big-headed rock star?  Or the boozy myopia of a skinny kid who got beyond sozzled after playing an early set?  The latter, I fuzzily decide, as Steven and I engage each other in a mild verbal altercation that escalates to a good-natured challenge to fight. 

A true-to-life re-enactment:

Steven: You want to take this outside?

Alice: Yeah,  I'll take you down!

S: Okay, let's go right here!

A: Wait, you don't want to take this outside?

S: Crab fight me! (gets down on his hands and feet dog-style, not at all like a crab)

A: ...Whaaa?  What's that?

S: Get down forward on your hands like this--do what I do!

A: Okay... (does what Steven is doing) How do I win?

S: Just go!

A: Like this? (knocks Steven over, pins him to the ground.  This is accomplished easily, due to the fact that Steven is both a toothpick and schwasted.)  Do I win?

S: Okay, you win!  You totally win!

Oddly enough, he still doesn't repay me my beer.  Even more oddly, he has no recollection of our epic battle the next day, when I run into him in sober state.  And so it goes--one person's black-out tussle is another person's ATP highlight. 

But Steven, if you're reading--I looked up Crab Fight, and apparently we played it wrong.  So I'm issuing you an open challenge to take it outside (or inside, as it were) again before the next ATP, fighting like the true crabs we are.  And this time, I'm stealing your beer.

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